A Karate Story Read online

  The training seminar before the examination revealed him to be an excellent technician, and hard as nails. He was a perfectionist, making us repeat techniques over and over until he was satisfied that we understood what he wanted us to do. It was good training, but my mind was focused on the examination ahead, so it was difficult to concentrate on the class itself. The butterflies were already in full flight in my stomach.

  As usual we were called out in groups of six for the examination. In our group, my name was called first. That meant that I stood closest to the examiner, facing sideways. Shane was last called in our group. I was disappointed that we were separated: we had become great friends, were often partnered together, and had worked hard in preparation for our exam. I was immediately put on the back foot. The examination would be a little more difficult partnered with someone else.

  First we were asked to do several basic techniques up and down the floor. We were surprised that we were not asked some of the more complicated combinations that we had been doing in the dojo for the previous couple of months, but we performed what we were asked to do to the best of our ability.

  Next was the kumite (partner work). I was paired with a guy who was a good bit older than me. Again, we were closest to the examiner, with each pair of students standing progressively further away. My partner was very strong, but a bit clumsy. I knew him well enough to remember to be sharp with my blocking. It seemed to work well, though my arms were sore and bruised by the end of it.

  Finally, we had kata – Heian Nidan. I liked this kata because it had kicks in it and I was flexible enough to be able to kick high. All I remember about performing the kata is that I was still cursing my kumite partner because my forearms were throbbing from blocking his iron-bar arms earlier.

  When the kata finished there was silence apart from our heavy breathing. The chief instructor and Sensei Ray were seated at the table doing the paperwork and marking our examination records. After what seemed like an eternity, the examiner pointed his pen at me and said something. I wasn’t expecting him to be talking to me, so I didn’t catch what he said.

  ‘Do you want to try for a double grading?’ he repeated, somewhat impatiently. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what trying for a double grading would entail. I was trying to figure out why he was asking me and not Shane, because I considered Shane to have better karate than me. I was obviously taking too long to answer, so Sensei Ray asked me the question again. I knew this was not a good sign, and that I should have answered decisively the first time I was asked.

  ‘Oss!’ I said, as loudly and confidently as I could, though I suspect it sounded rather shaky.

  ‘Ok,’ said the examiner. ‘Do you know Heian Sandan?’

  ‘Oss!’ I replied, a little stronger this time. I knew this kata. I could perform all five Heian kata (plus Kanku-Dai, but that was still a secret!). They might not have been to any particular standard, but I could do them.

  I was the only one invited to try for a double grading. As I did the kata, my mind was racing. I was trying to do it strong, because I knew that my lack of physical power was my key weakness, but at the same time I was trying to figure out why I was being given the opportunity when others were not. By the time I gave a loud kiai (shout) at the end of the kata, I had figured it was simply because I was closest to the examiner, and Shane was furthest away. He could see me more easily.

  When the results of all the examinations were announced, my friends were awarded 7th Kyu – yellow belts – and I was awarded 6th Kyu – green belt. Everyone congratulated me on getting the double grading, but I felt guilty. I even told Shane that he would have been the one to get it had our positions in the line been switched. He didn’t seem to mind though, and was genuinely happy for me, which I greatly appreciated.

  As coloured belts, we were now able to train in the more advanced class that my brother was in on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and we were able to attend on Fridays as well. I would finally be able to participate in the class I had spent hours watching.

  On the first night in the dojo after the grading we were all proudly wearing our brand-new belts. Being the only one who received a double grading, I was probably prouder than anyone, but pride comes before a fall… During class we did a lot of partner work and changed partners regularly. After a while, one of my partners pointed towards my belt. I just had a silly grin on my face, thinking they were pointing out my nice new belt.

  Then we changed partners, and my next partner also pointed to my belt. I grinned again. Wow, my new belt was getting a lot of attention. Then my partner pointed at it again.

  ‘Nice, isn’t it?’ I whispered.

  ‘No, you idiot,’ she hissed at me. ‘The knot is undone!’

  I looked down to see the belt was nearly falling off. Unlike my old white belt, the new belt was stiff so the knot didn’t want to stay in place. It had loosened so much that it had come undone and I was too preoccupied and proud to notice. Idiot indeed. I blushed and sheepishly re-tied it.

  As my brother had pointed out to me much earlier, the training never got easier – it just became more intense as we moved up the grades. We immediately noticed that Sensei Ray’s expectations had changed: the classes were longer and more frequent; the intensity was higher; and as always, there was a lot to absorb. We learned how to understand and manipulate our bodies to make better use of certain techniques. In many ways the training became more physical, and applicable to everyday uses.

  One evening in class, Sensei Ray was not happy with our partner work. He started shouting at us to attack stronger and harder. We still were not doing it right and he became frustrated, so he sat us all down in a circle. Then he made me stand in front of him.

  ‘You are all going too easy on your partners,’ he explained. ‘You might think you are being nice to your friend by going easy on them, but you are not. We are here to learn how to block attacks. How can we learn whether our block works or not, if the attack is not realistic? If you are too far away, your partner does not have to block. If you move your attack away at the last moment, your partner does not get the feel of the block working. If you do not attack with speed and power, then your partner will not learn to use speed and power to block. The way you attack is the way your partner will defend.’

  We all nodded, and said ‘Oss!’ Sensei made a lot of sense with this little speech. Then he faced me and continued.

  ‘If I am partnered with Seamus, I owe it to him to attack strong. If he is my friend – and he is – then I must work hard to help him improve his karate. Then he must do the same for me.’

  This was the first time that Sensei Ray called me a friend. I had never thought about it like that until then. I had no time to dwell on the significance of what that meant, because he immediately announced his attack. We had been doing three-step training, with three different attacks one after the other. As he launched his first attack my instincts took over and I moved back and blocked faster than I had ever moved before. Almost as soon as I had blocked that, the second attack was coming at me. I blocked again, just about moving in time. Then the third attack – front kick – came at me. My arm flew down to block it as I frantically stepped back out of the way. Before I knew what was happening, my counter-attack flew out with the same intensity as his attacks had been. I had never realised I could move so fast, until he gave me no choice: I either moved and blocked, or I would have been hit, albeit with control.

  That lesson made a lasting impression on me, and on everyone else, because our partner work was far more intense and realistic for the rest of that class, and for every other class. It is a lesson I have carried throughout my karate career.

  6. JUSTICE

  I loved training as a green belt. In fact, I consider the period from green belt to purple belt to be one of my ‘golden’ periods of training. In karate, people sometimes talk about the ‘golden age’ of karate, where the first generation of instructors travelled from Japan like missionaries to bring karate to the wor
ld. Since then, people have used the phrase sometimes to refer to highlights in their own training. When I earned my green belt, I felt as if a world of opportunity had opened to me. I learned a lot, and it was all very exciting. I was now able to train in all the classes at our dojo (the more the merrier!). Our younger brother Enda had also joined the dojo, so there were three brothers actively training in the club. Along with several other students, I would go and train in the white belt class for the first hour, and then in our intermediate class for another hour and a half on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and then I got to train in the coveted Friday night advanced classes too.

  One of the newer students was a keyholder for the town hall, so a group of us often went there at weekends, when it was not in use, to do a bit of extra training. Another green belt in the club, Daniel, used to do Tae-Kwon-Do, and he had a friend who was preparing for his black belt in that art. He came along for a bit of extra training with us one day. After we showed each other the types of basics and katas we each did, he suggested a bit of sparring. I readily agreed, and we bowed to each other. He started off with a lot of high-spinning kicks from a long way out so I was easily able to avoid them. When he got in a bit closer, I simply ducked under a high kick, and punched him in the stomach.

  ‘Hey! You can’t do that!’ he complained.

  ‘Why not?’ I asked, genuinely surprised.

  ‘That’s not how we spar,’ he said.

  ‘Well,’ I reasoned, ‘it is how we spar, and we are here to learn from each other, right?’

  He agreed, and we ended up having a good session where we learned from each other’s differences, rather than trying to force ourselves to be the same.

  We participated in a couple of inter-club competitions around that time. I was successful in the kata competitions, but I still struggled with the sparring events. Although my sparring in the dojo was good, I struggled to translate my skills into points at these events. Most of the people who did well at our level just stuck with reverse punch, but I preferred to kick. That meant that I was often a sitting duck for a counterpunch when my opponent blocked my kicks. Still, I was gathering quite a collection of kata trophies, with their little plastic men doing a side-kick on top.

  When the regional (Munster) championships came around I was 5th Kyu, which we called 1st purple belt (in some groups they called it blue belt). Shane had double-graded to catch up with me again, which I was glad about. The championships were being held in my home town that year, and I was hoping that my parents would come and watch, as they had never attended any of our previous events. I was in a category with 7th Kyu (yellow belt) to 4th Kyu (2nd purple belt). Unfortunately, this event was held earlier than I expected, and my parents had not arrived by the time the elimination rounds were completed. I got to the kata final, which would be held later in the evening.

  Sensei Ray spoke to me and told me that I couldn’t do Heian Yondan anymore, because now it was a kata below my grade. He wanted me to keep doing higher-level katas. By now he knew that I was able to do Kanku-Dai, so he told me to do that in the final. It was audacious for a 5th Kyu to do such a kata, but he knew best and I did as I was told.

  My parents arrived and watched some of the events, but the finals are always held at the end of the day, so they had left again before my final event. Nevertheless, I managed to win with Kanku-Dai, and I was delighted to win it because it was such a difficult and long kata to perform.

  That was the closest that my parents got to watching any karate for a long time. In fact, my father only once ever came to a class, years later in Dublin when I was teaching. It wasn’t that they weren’t interested, but they didn’t really understand the art or the level of commitment needed. My father was impressed when he did come to watch that class, and that was good enough for me.

  The national championships came around again while I was still 5th Kyu. The organisers changed the categories for the competition that year: 5th Kyu to 1st Kyu (purple belts and brown belts) were now in one category. That meant that I was the lowest grade possible for our section, and most of the other competitors were brown belts with at least one or two years of additional experience. This put me at a big disadvantage before we had even started.

  That year’s competition took place in a small town hall in Killarney. The space was cramped with karate-ka, all fuelled with adrenalin. Two arenas were placed in the main floor space. The large stage area had been cleared and matted to make a third.

  Our kata event took place on the stage. The referee was Sensei McCarthy, and the two judges were guys I didn’t know. I was called out in the first round against a brown belt. I didn’t fancy my chances much and made the mistake that many people make – I looked at the belt instead of the person.

  The referee selected a kata for us to perform: Heian Yondan. My favourite! I was pleased. Maybe I had a chance after all. We did the kata, and the referee blew his whistle for the two judges and himself to raise their flags. I couldn’t see the two judges because they sit behind the competitors, but the referee was in front. He raised a white flag for me. Then I saw him shaking his head. He put down his flag and then raised both flags crossed, indicating a draw. Apparently, the two judges behind had both raised red flags for the other competitor, but the referee overruled them. We would have to go again.

  He selected a second kata. Heian Sandan. We both did the kata again, and again the same thing happened. The referee raised his flag for me, and the other two raised their flags for the other competitor. The referee brought them both up to speak to them. He was clearly not happy with them. When they sat down again he raised both flags crossed once more. Another draw.

  After the third kata, when the same thing happened, the referee called for the chief referee to come to the arena. Sensei McCarthy explained what was happening. The chief referee made us perform Heian Shodan, the most basic kata: he refereed us by himself, relieving all the others for this one kata. We had barely finished when he raised a white flag for me. He then told the two judges that they were disqualified from judging for the rest of the day. Two different judges were appointed to assist the referee for the rest of the event.

  My fellow competitor came over to me to apologise. ‘I could see your kata was better than mine,’ he told me. ‘I am sorry.’ We shook hands with no hard feelings. It wasn’t his fault. He was only on the floor competing. Someone told me later that the two judges were from the same dojo as my competitor, but I don’t know if that was true.

  I made it all the way to the final and was joined by Shane and two brown belts from our dojo. One of our brown belts, a 1st Kyu, won the event, and I was runner-up. It was the first time that I had lost a kata competition, but I didn’t mind because it was to a fellow team-mate and friend. Given the way the category was set anyway, I would have gladly taken second place at the beginning of the day, and for a while it looked like I wasn’t getting past the first round! I was certainly grateful that Sensei McCarthy refused to allow what was apparently an injustice.

  There were several other tournaments while I was a purple belt, but for each of them the brown belts were in a different category, so I didn’t have to contend with them. A friendly rivalry developed between myself and a guy called Adrian, who was from a club in Cork City. He and I often reached the final of the kata events together, and we got to know each other. Although we were competitive on the floor, we greeted each other as friends and shared a few laughs off the floor. There was a sense of camaraderie because we were often in similar circumstances with competition. I got to know people from various groups at the different tournaments; it felt good to know karate could bring people together, even if they were adversaries for a short while.

  My training became slightly disrupted around this time as school exams loomed closer. Greg, Trevor and Peter had dropped out by now, as had some of our other friends, so I didn’t have as many people to train with outside of class. Shane and I were still there, and about five others from the original class. Shane was able to train mo
re than me at that time, and because he did a grading examination that I missed, he was now a grade ahead.

  I tried to make up for missing some training by reading books on karate when I could. I had received my first martial arts book, The Zen Way to the Martial Arts, from Brendan when I was still a white belt. There were not so many martial arts books available in those days, and it certainly was not so easy to find them. I was fascinated. Sensei Ray recommended two books when I asked him about what I should read. They were Moving Zen by C.W. Nicol and Spirit of the Empty Hand by Stan Schmidt. Once read, they inspired and motivated me to keep training, even when my friends had quit and life commitments seemed to get in the way. I dreamed of becoming a black belt. I dreamed of going to Japan to train, and I wondered if such dreams could ever come true.

  People sometimes get fixated on gradings and belts, but we were learning that it was more important to focus on good training. In doing that, the belts and grades sorted themselves out over time. Shane and I started together and earned our first two grades together. Then I went a grade ahead of him, and then he caught up with me the next time. Then he went a grade ahead of me. He was now first brown belt, testing for second brown, while I was second purple belt preparing to test for first brown.

  Once the school exams were over I was able to refocus on training. In preparing for brown belt I had to work on the kata that I thought I would never be able to learn: Tekki-Shodan. It turned out that I liked the kata, mostly because my kiba-dachi (horse stance) was good, but also because I liked the sharp hand movements once I got used to them.

  Kanazawa Sensei conducted the tests again. This was my fourth time testing directly with him. He must have liked my kata (and everything else) because he gave me my second double grading so I skipped first brown belt and went straight to second brown belt. In doing so I had caught back up with Shane, who earned his second brown belt the same day. On the way home after that examination, I remember smiling at the irony that I used to think that I would never be able to get to brown belt, yet it turned out to be one of the best tests I had done. Perhaps I was too quick to set limits for myself.